There was a bird on the sidewalk. Plump and glasseyed, like a stuffed thing. I thought it such, until I got close enough to see that it was breathing fast and faintly.

Its feathers were sand colored with a like texture. Not meant for the snow and the city.

It was a plover of some sorts. How I knew that escaped me.

(Later it would come to me—in my parents house above the toilet is a framed painting of various New England shore birds. Apparently I had, dick-in-hand, unconsciously digested that information, useless and unnoticed until then.)

I wondered at how it found itself there. Without thinking I reached out a hand to touch it.

The bird sprung to life but only shortly. Flew straight into a glass door no more than six feet in front of it, connecting with a sad thump.

It danced a fluttery, broken dance. There are no metaphors for a broken bird. A broken bird is a broken bird.

* * *

Later, I tried calling around to see if someone could help it. It had seemed so rare and special there on the sidewalk. I thought there would be someone to call for such a thing. I thought I would describe the bird and specialists knowing of its rarity would rush through the night to save it.

But apparently, for such things at such an hour, there is no one.

Walking home from work late I passed two people having sex in a parked car. I walked by but only caught a glance because a man was passing me on the street and I pretended not to notice.

I turned right at the next corner and again. Walking down the parallel street I passed the man I passed earlier. I read his downturned face. We had both looped around the block so as to pass the car again.

I wondered at what kind of pervert he was as we recrossed paths next to that car.

The windows were very foggy by then and I dont know if the skinny bare back I saw belonged to a man or a woman.

WAVE HANDS IN FRONT

I was in Borders solely to take a shit. The man in the stall next to me was working very hard.

Every time I went to wipe my ass I would trigger the sensor and the toilet would flush automatically. The toilet flushed 5 times in total.

I gesticulated in front of the sink but got no reply and gave up. The hand dryer whirred to life as I passed it in exit.

Imaginary Mongoose

There were these two men, sharing a railway carriage. They didn't know each other. They just happened to be travelling together.

One of the men had, resting in his lap, a cardboard box with holes punched in the top. After some time spent contemplating what might be inside his travelling companion's box, the other man at last could not contain his curiosity.

He said,

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing your box. Does it contain some variety of animal?"

The other man, though obviously surprised by this impertinent intrusion from a stranger, smiled politely as he answered,

"You're absolutely right. There is indeed a creature kept inside this box. And furthermore, I may reveal, the animal in question is a mongoose."

The first man, who'd initiated the enquiry, was astonsihed by this revelation. Spluttering with surprise, he sought some further explanation of this certainly provocative disclosure made by his strange fellow-traveller.

"A mongoose? Sir I must confess I had expected it to be perhaps a cat, or rabbit, not a creature so exotic and outlandish. The animal you mention so excites my curiosity that I must beg you, sir, to tell me more. Where are you bound with such a specimen, if I may be so bold?"

The other man, who sat with the perforated box on his lap, shrugged wearily as he replied, "Well, it's something of a personal matter, as it concerns a family tragedy. However, since I'm confident I may rely on your discretion, I suppose I don't mind sharing my unfortunate account with you."

"You see," the man went on, "this sorry tale concerns my elder brother. He's always been what I suppose you might refer to as the black sheep of the family. He has for many years indulged himself in a predictable and commonplace array of vices, of which the worst is his fondness for strong spirits. His drinking has progressed until he is now in the final stages of delerium tremens. My brother now sees serpents everywhere, which is the reason I am taking him this mongoose, that he may be rid of them."

"Excuse me,"

the other man interjected, looking puzzled,

"But, these snakes your brother sees... aren't they imaginary snakes?"

"Indeed,"

his fellow traveller replied.

"But this,"

and here he gestured meaningfully to the perforated box set on his lap,

"is an imaginary mongoose."

* * *

-Aleister Crowley

(Image from Rudyard Kipling's short story "Rikki-Tikki-Tavi")